faderift | lost myself and I am nowhere to be found

It was a tradition that had begun the night she, Silas and Sketch liberated themselves from Harwen Raleigh, in the truest sense of the word. They liberated the entire world of his presence, cast down onto the rocks and his carcass claimed by the Waking Sea. That night there had been considerably more Antivan brandy consumed than what she had here, but she has half a mind to carry on once the bottle is done.

Two thirds of it are drunk, and not for the first time she holds up her cup, toasting with a murmured "Atrast tunsha, salroka," before tipping it out onto the stone floor with a quiet splash before she refills. This cup is tipped back so that the plum brandy burns her throat.

It is night and she is alone, and that is the way of the Nightingale.

Edited 2016-05-10 17:56 (UTC)

At least the glitter is finally done. The time would come for her revenge, but in the meantime things like war and advocating freedom were getting rather in her way, and her satisfaction on that count was forced back— no matter. The opportune moment would come.

Glitter and vengeance aside, Leliana can be found in the Rookery at almost any time, no matter how late or early, and whether she sleeps at all is a matter of some speculation. Most often when someone arrives she is handing a message to a scout, or perhaps a raven is hopping closer for treats and affection, or she may be murmuring orders or simply committing them to ink with precise, careful writing.

She does not usually need to look to know that someone is approaching, but there are times when she is engrossed in her work, and doesn't care to interrupt herself.

"Did you need something?"

( ooc: prose or brackets are fine! if you'd like Leliana to have sent for your character to discuss something particular that is totally okay, but hammering out some details would be good :Db )

Edited 2016-05-10 18:09 (UTC)

Every time she did this, Emma seemed to sort of materialise out of nowhere to tell her to get down, or she seemed to know about it later and gave Ruby a look. Maybe it was just that she looked far too guilty or maybe Emma was some kind of mind reader, but the point is that she was always there in some form or another. There were Emma-shaped consequences.

Now Ruby's cloak is pooled on the ground, crimson brocade crumbled under the leather boots resting on it, as Ruby holds out her hands and walks down the ramparts as if they were a balance beam. She doesn't feel dangerous or at risk of just taking one step wrong and letting herself fall, but she doesn't feel great, either.

Ruby looks out over the Frostbacks, at the dark silhouette of them against the pinks and purples of the sky that has been lost its sun, and she sighs a little, exhausted, as her hair whips about her face. "Where are you?"

Edited 2016-05-10 18:50 (UTC)

Some things are left aside far too long, and this is undeniably such a thing. Ten years was likely long enough that things might be forgotten and moved on from and ideas abandoned, but the drawing closer of this month and the reuniting of old friends had reminded her, and so it was done.

It is with a parcel under her arm, wrapped in paper, that Leliana moves down the stairs, still with the uprightness and severity of the Nightingale, but with just the slightest spring in her step.

"Shale," she offers by way of greeting, walking towards the golem. "How are you?"

It always starts the same way. Deeply inhaling the scent of Emma's cloak, the one that had reminded Ruby of Snow's in the old days - pale, with flowers in the pattern. This time her run around the Frostbacks ended with a slide into water that might have been dangerous if not for the Wolf, and dragging herself out to start the long walk back after three days away from Skyhold.

Ruby's parked at the bar with her shoulders a little slumped, hair still damp and looking down at her empty cup with a sigh before nodding to the barman. "Another, please."

The sound of a familiar voice somewhere in the vicinity gets a bit of a smile out of her, and Ruby shakes her head. "And give Isabela another one of whatever she had last, too."

lol just kidding it's over here

Their last chat either went all right or piss poorly, and Hercules (not for the first time) finds himself at a loss in terms of how to figure out which one it was. Communication outside of battle tactics and orders had never much been his forte.

At any rate, he finds himself on the look out for her a while after, because thoughts are troublesome things when you're still not set to hold a shield or swing a sword, and when you keep being told to sit and wait and rest. Suddenly all you've got are thoughts and that damn song just rings louder.

They are in the gardens, this time, when they stumble across one another, his clothes hanging less loosely and his back straighter as Max pads gleefully towards her. "Councilor," he says, with a polite nod and a bit of a smile, maintaining a respectful distance. "Busy day?"

"Yes," Ellana says, stopping beside the table where Sister Nightingale looks hard at work. She doesn't want to take up too much of the spymaster's time, but she's been considering this option even before she took her first flight as a bird.

"I've become a shapeshifter under Morrigan's guidance, and I wanted to make myself available to you if you ever have need of me as a scout. I can become a sparrow, so I can get a bird's eye view of areas, and I recently learned to become a fennec too, which might come in handy in areas where they're everywhere and pretty inconspicuous. With time, I'll pick up additional forms too."

Ellana has a lot on her plate, and she isn't thinking of abandoning all her other commitments to become an official scout, but she sees an opportunity to be of use, so she'll offer it.

As per custom whenever they both find times for these meetings, Adelaide has a sheaf of papers, copies of her notes in longhand, initiatives and lessons that are going well, things that could be worked on- what she would normally offer a First Enchanter were she yet in the Spire and had a more manageable class size to mind. Here there are many mages and the council does what it can for most.

Part of that is keeping the advisors in the loop.

"Sister Nightingale-" She's early today as she has been every time before. "I have the notes from my research as requested and reports from the Council."

That gets her attention rather effectively, though there is a pause before she answers.

"That would be invaluable," she admits, considering Ellana. "I would be very glad to take you on as a scout, and to offer you training."

Leliana even offers something that could vaguely be interpreted as a smile, maybe.

"May I ask what inspired the idea?" There were other shapeshifters - thus far, none of them had offered their services, and the Inquisition had quite rightly offended the elves with matters surrounding Galadriel and Gavin.

She has learned to account for Adelaide's earliness in her planning out of the day, and looks up without much in the way of surprise.

"Councilor LeBlanc. Thank you." Seated at her desk and writing, Leliana takes a moment to finish the report she is composing before indicating the empty seat for Adelaide, if she should wish it. "Are there any particular matters I should focus on first?"

"Aside from my customary request that we find room for the Council to meet or space for offices once the other high priority repairs have been made?" At this point it is an obligatory comment. The weather is good, the students are not dreaming poorly, the Council would do better to have offices.

They would not even need much but- holes in the walls, in the battlements- other things need their attention more.

Adelaide sits, sliding the copy of notes from her recent round of research to Leliana. "Samples of a few herbs listed in here- something to enhance the potency of lyrium. Splitting the Inquisition's supply between the templars and mages has not yet caused problems but- the further we might stretch our stores? The better. Several mages and herbalists have been looking into different formulas to make more efficient lyrium potions for mage use. Said herbs grow in areas we have not yet visited- sending scouts along to gather them from the Hissing Wastes and Exalted Plains would help."

A slight smile - very slight, amused, and only a little wry. "I'll underline it again in my notes," she promises. It will happen, and that the mages have aided with other building projects is no small thing.

"That is promising. I will pass it along to the Commander at soon as possible." Noting down the areas of interest, Leliana leafs through the papers. "Thank you. Have you any personal observations you'd like to note?" The things not mentionable at meetings or in notes, the troubles here and there.

[ooc: Leliana doesn't need to have sent for her in this case, but I'd love for them to get around to that topic somehow.]

Korrin would be genuinely surprised if she ever caught Sister Nightingale off-guard by her approach. The heavier tread thanks to her greater size usually gives the Vashoth woman away even when she's trying to be stealthy, a rare occurrence. That's no exception today, either, and Korrin knows better than to think she can slip past all the staring ravens without at least one of them giving her presence away. She'll live, somehow.

Pausing before Leliana's able, Korrin doesn't seem to mind Leliana's singular focus. The spymaster is constantly busy, balancing far more than the mercenary mage could possibly imagine. Still, some things need to be said. "I wanted to thank you for helping me, now that I'm clear-headed enough to make it up here without tipping over." There's a brief, self-depreciating smirk at that. "I know I was a pain in the ass during that weird plague going around, and a heavy one at that. You had more than enough to do, but you still took time to help drag me where I needed to go. I appreciate that."

"Thank you. I'll start whenever you wish."

The question causes her gaze to flicker down for a moment, recalling the time Beleth had called her selfish. Ellana doesn't disagree. She puts her own wants before that of her clan. That doesn't mean she wants to see them suffer, or thinks herself better, but it means she feels life with them is too stifling and she needs to walk her own path.

"I can be selfish," she admits. "I wanted to learn shapeshifting for my own protection out in the world, because it would be dangerous for someone like me to travel alone. But doing that? The traveling? It comes after my work with the Inquisition is done. And why hold on to this ability and not use it to help the Inquisition in the meantime?"

When one wished to find the spymaster, the rookery tended to be the place to go, no matter the hour. So when she went only to find a few scouts tending to the ravens with only shrugs and 'the Nightingale is not here at the moment, I can tell her you were looking' from those brave enough to keep up with such answers even beneath her glare, Morrigan goes looking. She tries the war room since she is here as the arcane advisor, and though Orlais has little support to offer, she was the last one truly at Celene's side but no, not there either. She tries the gardens, on the off chance. The libraries. She takes to the skies instead to make it faster, flitting through the halls for where are ravens not a common sight in Skyhold?

In the cold and dark of the dungeons, she does not expect to find Leliana, turning back swiftly with a scowl and an arched brow.

"What are you doing?" It's practically a demand, though Leliana cannot know quite how long Morrigan has been looking for her. "Why are you speaking dwarven?"

Why yes that catches her attention right now more than the drinking but she'll get to that too.

"That is all I ask." Smiling a little at, with, Sister Nightingale? is not something she'd have thought possible when she arrived here months ago. Settling into a comfortable working relationship has done a great deal to ease her mind.

"A handful of apprentices that have been having difficulties with the fade training- not so much as to be a danger to themselves or the others but enough to make them hesitant in continuing. Their mentors can reassure only so much. They are all of them faithful Andrastians- is it possible to arrange a singing of uplifting verses of the Chant for them? They may find their strength in faith."

"A bit of guidance, if you'd give it," Gwenaëlle says, the smile audible for all that Leliana needn't immediately look up to see it. Putting her best foot forward with the Nightingale, she hopes; if any part of her might bristle that she doesn't merit the whole of her immediate attention...well, easier swallowed when it's Leliana, who most assuredly has more pressing concerns than cosseting a debutante. "I hoped to speak with you a little, on the subject of my editorial."

A brief pause.

"I suppose - on the subjects that will be in it, going on."

Where to concentrate? What to avoid? It's one thing to clear the work with the advisors before its edited, but she suspects she'd do well to have some notion in advance of what will and will not be approved at Josephine's desk. Better that than to lose half her work to red ink and be forced into hasty rewrites to fill space, and...

And there is a lot to think of. The direction she can take, the way she can use the opportunity she's been given. What future opportunities she can parley it into if she's clever and thoughtful and listens. This will not be wasted - none of it. Already one door opens another, Arainai giving her his account of the fifth Blight...

Leliana is the right person to talk to, she thinks.

Edited 2016-05-12 01:41 (UTC)

The sickness that had struck the hold not even a full day later had spared her from examining that moment beyond her determination that it had been - a foolish thing, but done. Not charming, or clever, or...just done. He would not be visiting, she informed Teren (among other things, things she might yet live to regret), and that was all.

It isn't all. Apparently.

"Hercules," she says, reflexive even as he is so courteous of her professional title; Husband noses inquisitively at Max and Benevenuta catches his collar, habitual, gives him a scratch as she tries to decide whether or not to rise from where she'd settled with a book. The gardens aren't peaceful, per se, there is foot traffic and work to be done, but - she finds that relaxing in these rare moments she takes for herself.

"It always is, isn't it? But I've a moment."

"Morrigan."

Of course it would be Morrigan. There is something miserably appropriate about being here - it was a dungeon where last she saw Tug, where she saw the remains of what Raleigh's men had done to him. Her friend.

"It is a farewell," she explains, as if the meaning of them might explain the logic operating behind all of this, tone quite even and calm. "I believe it means 'May you always find your way in the darkness.' Something like that, at any rate."

Another cup is poured, and she grimaces a little before downing that as well, liquor making warmth pool in her gut and starting to make her lips feel strange. "'Salroka' means 'friend,' but there is more nuance to it."

"I imagine the sisters would be all too delighted." Some of them would be leery of mages, some not, some would be smug that there were mages who needed the Chant so when others wanted to pull away and have their freedom, others would be kind and supportive. "I will not mention the reason why, nor for whom the request has been made. Likely it would invoke tensions of some kind." Quietly murmured, and she makes a mental note. "Tomorrow evening, perhaps, if they are prepared. Otherwise sometime soon."

She frowns a little, then, and looks to Adelaide with a quiet curiosity. "Is there a great correlation between those amongst your students who are Andrastian and those who oppose freedom for mages? Those who would prefer the Circle, and so on."

"Thank you." Those that had been content- those that had been too young to truly grasp the frustrations of the older mages? That had not yet been given time enough to form their own opinions- they needed support more than anyone else. However they found it? Adelaide did no care. So long as they found it.

"None that I have noticed. Some sing the chant and believe we ought to be free to do Andraste's work with our gifts outside of the Circle. Some sing it and are convinced we are better off with the old system. Some never sing and feel either way. I have not taken stock of where faith falls in line with their political views, though I have no doubt they inform them." She makes a mental note to find that pattern.

Councilor, her mind supplies, before she immediately corrects the line of thinking. "Korrin. It is good to see you looking so well recovered."

Leliana is surprised by the thanks, even if only traces of it make it into her expression. It is a strange thing, to be so controlled - to have to think to allow oneself to be genuine, so much of the time. Simple spontaneity was possible, more often in the presence of old friends who knew her long ago, but there were risks inherent in it. It was better to orchestrate each motion carefully.

"The thanks are unnecessary," she starts, "but you are welcome. The Inquisition must stand together, no? Sometimes literally."

It is the most understated humour, but it is still humour, of a sort.

"On your editorial." Ah, yes. The project that Josephine and she had looked over previously. "Interesting work," Leliana remembers, looking up to the ceiling, musing a little. "Your discussion of the Inquisition was quite engaging."

As a bard, of course, she is incredibly critical about everything creative. Where was the poetry Gwen? The poetry.

And, more pressing than her own artistic flaire;

"A rather telling lack of acknowledgment of the elves who contribute to our efforts. I believe that the work of the Dalish and city elves alike would be an excellent topic for consideration."

She says it so lightly, as if she had been making an idle but pleasant observation. The only real indication of anything alarming under the surface is the fact that the Worst Raven is the one that is lured over by her tone, Baron Plucky alighting on her shoulder. That said, to all but those who have had to work with his hellish existence, he probably just looks like any other raven. Extra :V.

Leliana hums a little, thinking, as she leans back in her seat. The motion catches the attention of Varric Feathras, a raven of particularly impression plumage down its chest and belly, who is opting to evade the poor scout trying to put him back in his cage.

Leliana ignores the scout's struggle, and after a moment the bird flaps away from his nearby perch, followed by a scurrying scout.

"I wondered--" She pauses, frowns a little more, and the fingers of her right hand ball into a fist. "The Chantry has so often lead with cruelty. It has invited hatred and disdain, it has punished and degraded all those who not conform to the standards it lays down. I find it impossible to reconcile the love of the Maker with the judgment doled out so generously by the Chantry. It seemed that it must be especially hard for Andrastian mages to feel loved in such circumstances, when the Maker must appear so warped."

lost myself and I am nowhere to be found

morrigan. vaguely mid bloomingtide.

open. ( freedom talks/general rookery adventures. ) mid(ish?) bloomingtide.

open. mid bloomingtide.

shale. (?????)

isabela. mid bloomingtide.

ruby at the rift

benuta. ???

just a quick chat?

Status Report - PRE second ritual

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Freedom talks!

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